THE BOX

This story is in the form of an allegory. It is in the form of a picture. It describes the process of coming out a chrysalis type container into a new found freedom.

    Once, I lived in a self-chosen box … it was so small four sides could be touched at the same time; the feeling was as if I was being gradually suffocated. My box was self-constructed so all fears could be contained, checked now and then, and endured.

    Despite pouring with sweat I felt safe, though alone, protected from the hostile world, yet hardly sleeping, because I could not lie down to get comfortable. Nevertheless, it was a sacrifice worth making for sanity, which was subconsciously being stretched to a breaking point. My confinement took on the aspect of a perpetual nightmare in total darkness. 

    Craving release, yet too scared of the consequences, I did not have the means to achieve liberty. One day, the silence was broken by a sound outside; a gentle voice. In fact, the most gentle voice I had ever heard asked if I wanted to be set free. Desire for freedom tried to scream an assenting response, but no words could be uttered. I shook the sides of the box, like the demented man I had become. 

    Immediately, a scraping sound assaulted my hearing from the edges of each side, as invisible hands pried apart the stubborn box.

    Suddenly, one side was torn down enough that it enabled light to flood into this hallowed space. The dazed prisoner was brought out from his cell, but thinking to be no longer in control of life, he found the experience quite unnerving.  

    Now, I was liberated, free to breathe fresh air. Stretching my arms upward, I was overwhelmed by waves of comfort pouring from the one whose hope-filled voice had spoken.

   Never having experienced warmth of embrace, once we had separated I looked up into his face. He took my hand, turning me toward the most beautiful landscape, stretching up into the distant horizon in its myriad of wondrous colours and shapes … it was to be my future from this moment forth. 

   I then knew I would never again return to my box.

Reviews

[Richard🖌]

Well, here I am, Bill, reading/reviewing/critiquing my second story ever, though I am sorely qualified to do so … call it arrogance, naivety … I'm sure you'll derive something befitting. ; )

The box is metaphorical, I know, but how frustrating and torturous it must truly be to live in such a societal/self-imposed mental, spiritual, and emotional refinement, caged from one's true identity, from their Greater Self … how smothered you must have been, I can only sadly imagine.

This sincerely touched my core, My Friend, sweeping my spirit into a mood that ate at me, as it does with any inhumane injustice, but as I read, I felt, and as I felt, my happiness began to fade, such a sense of dread washed over me, like a dark, gauzy mantle, and it's took me a few moments to shake it off before I could finish this … it is, indeed, a most powerful story.

On the techy side: I recommend single spaces, and at least a four click indent with each paragraph's beginning. As presented, it just feels too disjointed and uncomfortable to read.
In this part: " I still considered myself safe" (omit "still", as it is unnecessary).
After your first sentence there should be more flow into the next, as in: "I once lived in a box … I know this, because it had four sides." (and no unnecessary "to it").
Here is how the first line (to me) should read:
"I once lived in a box … I knew this, because it had four sides I could touch at the same time." "know" is present, yet you begin your story in past tense.
In your second sentence, it should be "I knew this, rather than that".
Same here: "I constructed the box for myself, so (that) all my fears, etc;" (remove "that").
Browse through the entirety and find unnecessary words to eliminate; ands, thats, buts, etc; you get the picture. I did a quick count and summed thirty-seven "I" words. For so short a story, this seems excessive; look for more creative ways to speak with your splendid writer's voice.
Give this excellent story a thorough going over, stretching your writer's wings until it soars.

Hah! Listen to me, arrogantly acting the writing expert, when I know I am merely a poet … ah, well, something might be found of use. In the least, you know I tried for you, eh?

On the other side of the coin, happily inside the box, here is one of my own you might get a real kick out of: http://www.writerscafe.org/manage/edit/1569319/ (if you don't know, copy/paste the URL address/link into your browser's search bar).

Thanks sincerely, Bill, for asking me to read one of your stories; I've accepted, knowing I'm truly unqualified, as the only other story I've reviewed and critiqued, I was told-off in two pages what an idiot and unqualified dolt I am … so, that was the end of my story critiquing and editing career. I genuinely hope I've not offended you, My Friend, as I know how sensitive and protective a writer can be; I guess I just know of no other way than shooting straight about what presents itself.

You've earnestly honored me by sharing your deeply moving story, Bill, and allowing me to review it for you … thank you, My Very Talented Friend! ⁓ Richard

[Bill Grimke-Drayton]

Here is the new version, Richard. What do you think?

[Bill Grimke-Drayton]

Richard, thank you so much for your review of this story. You obviously have understood its very personal nature. I will take on board everything you have suggested, and come up with I hope an improved version. Thank you again.